Chapter 4

Aradhon made his way through the woods until he found the small creek that flowed past the church property on its way to the Indian River. The sun lifted high into the afternoon sky and sweat beaded upon his brow. Still, it was not as hot as the Nether, and he was grateful his prince sent him to oversee the new Gateway. Aradhon did not lie to the Warrior. He was not directly involved in the plans to raise a new Gateway to the Nether. He was merely a…watchdog, so to speak, here to make sure the one in charge succeeded.

And he would succeed. Aradhon would make sure of it. The demon, Vargas, may have underestimated the human Warrior, but Aradhon would not be so naïve. The Warrior’s power resided in the sword he carried, and it was a power the human had yet mastered. That was the reason behind the meeting, after all. Aradhon wanted to gauge the level of Rhychard Bartlett’s training.

It wasn’t far.

Aradhon could see it in the Warrior’s eyes as well as the slight probing the elf did of the human’s mind. Whoever was in charge of his training had failed in his knowledge. The human’s comprehension lacked quite a bit. For one, Rhychard Bartlett should have noticed when Aradhon probed his mind, but he was as clueless as the rest of the human race. No, his training was stunted. His training gave him just enough to defeat Vargas and no more, which led the dark elf to surmise that the Seelie wanted Rhychard Bartlett dead. He invaded their traditions, and the Seelie despised change more than they hated the Unseelie. They were a formal, snobbish lot with their customs and rituals. They desired the human gone, so an elf could reclaim the Guardian Sword, which led Aradhon to surmise an elf had to be near at hand for when the human did fall. The elves could not simply dispatch the human themselves for that would be contrary to their Way in their stuffy minds, but they could leave him handicapped enough that the Unseelie would do the job for them. It was all semantics to Aradhon, leading to the same conclusion. The Seelie had the false notion that their hands were clean because of their methods.

The dark elf stopped and scanned the surrounding area. If they did have an elf waiting for the inevitable, where was he?

After a brief moment of searching, Aradhon continued walking. It didn’t matter, when Rhychard Bartlett fell—and he would fall—Aradhon intended to be there to claim the Guardian Sword for himself. That was his true mission, after all, stealing the sword. A weapon such as that in the hands of the Unseelie would give the Void a definite advantage. A very brief window existed in which to do it. When a Warrior died, the bond remained broken until the next Warrior claimed it. During that time, anyone could lay their hands upon the sword without any fatal consequences. Touch it before then and the magic of the sword would incinerate the creature of faerie who dared to be so brazen. No, he must wait. Aradhon intended to steal the weapon before the Seelie reclaimed it, and then he would get his reward.

He felt his grin stretch across his face. He would be the envy of the Nether, the first to capture a Guardian Sword. He could practically feel the elation of the hilt in his hands as he carried it into the Destroyer’s realm, the lesser creatures of the Unseelie bowing at his feet, offering their backs for him to walk upon so as not to soil his boots with the blistering desert terrain. The Destroyer may even grant Aradhon his own kingdom within the Nether. Perhaps even give him his prince’s domain. Now, that would be power. Power he deserved.

For now, he just had to ensure everyone else fulfilled their tasks. Everything needed to proceed as planned in order for him to succeed with his own agenda, an agenda no one else knew about, not even his prince. No, that would be disastrous. If Aradhon’s prince knew what his servant attempted, the prince would thwart Aradhon’s plan and steal his glory. His death would also be required, more than likely, for even daring such a thing without the prince’s knowledge and without giving the prince the credit. Aradhon’s endeavor was not without risks, he knew, the worst being that of discovery. Yet, in order to gain power in the Nether, one must take risks.

So, I shall just make sure I do not get caught.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Rhychard sat upon his Thinking Rock—a flat slab of granite behind his condo that reached out into Manatee Creek—legs crisscrossed in front of him as he stared at the moving water. He first discovered the rock shortly after moving into Whispering Oaks and often came there to get alone with his thoughts, thus the moniker Thinking Rock. He made many of his decisions sitting just as he was now. Sitting here, he decided to tell Renny the truth about being a Warrior, as well as his best friend, Trace Wheeler. Furthermore, he discovered just how serious the bond between Warrior and sword truly was while on his rock. Shortly after Tryna’s arrival, in a feeble attempt to shed himself of being a Warrior, he threw the blade into the middle of the creek and attempted to walk away only to find himself collapsed onto the ground, pain stealing his breath and clutching his heart. The sword was now his lifeline, he discovered in an agonizing way; his means of survival. He crawled back to the water, and with the help of the naiads who dwelt in the creek, recovered the sword and saved himself. Tryna, the two and a half foot ellyll who served as his babysitter, arrived when the naiads carried him to the surface. The ellyll comforted him as he regained his strength, but she also told him the truth of his position—only death could separate him from his calling. After his experience, he believed her.

Now, he sat there, his fingers toying with the ring around his neck, contemplating the dark elf’s visit. It made no sense. Why would Aradhon make himself known to him? Wasn’t that considered tipping your hand? Why give himself away like that? More importantly, why was he even in Harbor City? He said he needed to check on someone, which meant others had a mission of some nefarious nature. But what was it?

:Kree?:

:Yes, Warrior?:

Rhychard glanced around, but the silver-haired coshey was nowhere in sight. :I had a visitor today at Harvest Fellowship.: He felt the elven hound probing his memory for the encounter. The coshey were not only mind-speakers, but they could read people’s thoughts, as well. Kree was decent enough not to do it without Rhychard’s permission and even taught him how to protect his mind from outside influence, when Rhychard remembered to employ it. Still, it was the easiest way to relay information, especially if Rhychard was concerned about forgetting important details. What may seem insignificant to him, may prove to be a vital piece of information to the faerie. :Well?:

:The meeting seems odd, but innocent. I can, however, determine that Aradhon read your mind. I have warned you about that Unfortunately, I am unable to deduce what specifically he endeavored to discern.:

:Dark elves can read minds? That’s not very comforting.:

:Not all. Not even most. However, it seems Aradhon is an ambitious sort. I doubt his master even knows. We should request that Tryna investigate and see what she uncovers.:

:Any idea what he was up to?:

:My apologies, but no. I can only see what you witnessed. I only have knowledge of Aradhon reading your mind because the act leaves a slight mental residue behind, revealing where he touched your mind. I can, however, assure you he did nothing to you by his probing. I just cannot determine what he desired to surmise.:

Great. Rhychard heard the heavy padding of the coshey working his way through the wooded area to where Rhychard sat on the rock. Being shaped like a giant bear with the appearance of a wolf and the languid movements of a lion, watching Kree move never ceased to amaze him. The elven hound circled twice before settling down on the flat rock, his head propped onto his front paws. He ran his tongue over his lips once and then settled down into a calm stillness. Rhychard reached out and scratched the coshey behind his ear, causing Kree to let out a sigh of contentment.

“Well, at least we had a month to rest,” Rhychard said. “I just wish I knew what was coming.”

:I am not sure the Unseelie will be so generous and forthcoming with their future endeavors.:

“You couldn’t just say they won’t tell us their plans?”

:Is that not what I just iterated?:

Rhychard laughed, scratching the hound’s head a little harder. “I suppose you did.” Over four months and Kree still spoke like a coshey from the Land Under, which sometimes resembled Shakespearian dialog. Rhychard supposed it had its appeal.

Glancing out at the flowing creek, Rhychard watched as a family of mallards drifted past. He found himself wondering if the naiads still lived under the surface, nurturing the creek and all that dwelt in it. Faeries existed in the world. They had always been there, protecting the human race, tending the earth. No one ever saw them, but they were there, the good and the evil. They were all a part of the faerie world, a fact that still amazed him, and they were all around—the Seelie and the Unseelie. Humans never saw them. He had been a Warrior for over four months, and he still didn’t see them.

But they were there; he knew it.

“Why would Aradhon meet me? I mean, I get I’m the freak in the faerie realm, but it’s not like I’m signing autographs or anything. What was the point?” Rhychard wondered if the bearded lady at the circus ever wondered something similar.

:To glean an estimation of your powers, perhaps.:

“To what? Oh, size me up?” Rhychard thought about it a moment. “Perhaps, but for what? He said he wasn’t on any mission.”

Kree turned his head, his tongue lolling, his dark eyes staring at Rhychard. :And the Unseelie are so upstanding and honest?:

“Point taken. So, what is he up to? Tryna’s going to tell me it’s my duty to uncover why the dark elf is here. What am I going to tell her?” Then more of Aradhon’s conversation came back to him. “He knew my routine. He knew I would be at Harvest Fellowship, which means he’s been following me. Why?”

:As we already surmised, he was taking your measure. And you should change your routine now and then. Following the same pattern leaves you vulnerable.:

“That’s what he said. Why would he want to help me?”

:A good question. It does seem it would be counter-productive to whatever his goal is.:

That it does, Rhychard thought. So why would the Unseelie wish to help him? What did Aradhon gain by giving him a warning that could easily allow the dark elf to kill him? It would be to his advantage to leave Rhychard set in his ways. Then, Aradhon could have killed him whenever the dark elf wanted. What did he gain by warning him? It didn’t make sense. Then again, when did the denizens of the Void ever make sense?

:I suppose we shall find out soon enough.: Kree pushed back onto Rhychard’s scratching fingers.

“That’s what I’m afraid of.”